


Memento

by thefuckistevvs



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Explosions, He also bites off someone's yugular, Junkrat gets almost gutted, M/M, sad fic, this is very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefuckistevvs/pseuds/thefuckistevvs
Summary: "What if Roadhog dies and after a few months Junkrat forgets about him but has the feeling that something is wrong all the time?"Junkrat forgets
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes & Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	Memento

**Author's Note:**

> _He was sure one day he was going to figure it out, and he would find whatever he is missing. He knew that much._
> 
> Hello! Anon was like HEY what if Roadhog dies and junkrat forgets so after personally hunting down anon for sport, i had to write this because, hey, its my brand
> 
> ;))
> 
> Also warning this is very sad lol
> 
> Thank you for reading and i hope you like it!!!

Something was off.

Junkrat couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but he knew it deep in his gut that he was missing something.  
He inspected himself, and sure enough everything seemed to be in place- he didn’t forget his arm, nor his prosthetic leg. He had his bombs with him, his canteen… everything was there. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing _something_.

Junkrat knew his memory was bad. Must be the radiation, it can’t be healthy to grow with it. Messes up with people’s heads. He could barely remember his name sometimes, and sometimes he spaced out in the middle of a task and couldn’t remember just what he was doing. 

Lately however, it’s almost as if his mind had gotten worse. He constantly felt like he was missing something, even if technically he hadn’t. Like if some fundamental part of him was missing and Junkrat couldn’t figure out _what_. 

He scratched his chin. Surely he was missing something, and the itch of not knowing what was gnawing at his insides. But he was sure one day he was going to figure it out, and he would find whatever he is missing. He knew that much. 

He could barely think with the roaring of the bike underneath him. It was difficult for Junkrat to ride it- it was meant for someone way, way larger. He had adapted it so he could ride it as well, but it was still a little difficult.

Junkrat couldn’t remember where he got the bike from, either. He figured he stole it from some gang leader and modified it for his use. He didn’t bother about that too much, however.

He quickly arrived at his next stop. The irradiated Outback had tons of several little towns scattered through it. They weren’t as big and as inhabited as Junkerland, but they were good enough to rest and to load up in provisions. 

Junkrat parked in front of the store, not bothering to load the bike with explosives- the window at the store was enough to keep an eye on the thing. He retrieved a sack from the passenger’s car.

That’s funny. A sidecar for such a giant bike? 

Junkrat figured he was the one to install it, since it had his iconic Smiley face on the front. Or maybe the bike already had the sidecar, and he added the smiley in it?

He has tried to get rid of it, but whenever he is about to hack the metal a horrible sense of guilt creeps up his guts. So, he lets it be. 

Junkrat sighed, dragging the sack inside. 

“Hey,” the old woman at the front greeted him. “You sellin’ or buyin’?”

“Both,” Junkrat barked, dumping the contents of the sack in front of the woman.

Spare parts, bandages and other crap he didn’t need. The woman inspected every item, and shook her head.

“I can give you summthin’ but it ain’t gonna be much.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright- I already got money, just wanted to know how much ya paid for this.” 

The woman retrieved the old bills to hand to Junkrat. “Ya know, i can give you far more if ye gave me those rings of yours.”

Junkrat cocked his head at her in confusion. Then he realized- the necklace of rings he was wearing. 

He pressed his flesh hand against them, pressing the pads of his fingers on them. Something was off. Something was wrong.

“So? Ya givin’ them?”

“No!” He screamed. Then he shook his head, trying to calm down. “No- no. These are uh,”

What were they, anyways? Why did he have a bunch of too-big rings in a necklace?  
The thought of selling them made him want to puke. 

“Roight, roight, whatever.” She shoved the money in his palm. “What are ya buyin’?”

“Ya feedin’ a family?”

“Huh?” Junkrat was confused by the shopkeeper comment. 

“Ye got a load of provisions, enough to feed a family of four for weeks, is what I’m saying.”

Junkrat blinked at her several times, and then looked down at everything he was buying.

Water, Bread, canned food- that’s the normal. Normal provisions.  
But once he looked more carefully, once he paid more attention he realized the lady was right. He was a skinny man- he could survive off very little. Why was he getting so much of everything? 

“Hey kid, ya okay?”

“I-” He was sweating. “Yer right. If I take too much it’s gonna spoil. Just,” he shoved more than half of the items away. “Just charge for these.”

The woman looked at him strange, but did as he said. Junkrat carelessly shoved the items inside his sack, swinging it over his shoulder and going out. The sun was setting and Junkrat hated driving at night. He rolled his shoulders as he rode his bike towards the town’s little motel. 

He parked the massive bike, taking his time boobie-trapping it. He wasn’t going to take any chances in case some bastard decided to try their luck. Dragging his sack inside, along with a backpack he made way to the dingy front desk.

The front desk looked clean and in good shape compared to the rest of the outback. It was full of beautiful plants that surely were being taken care of, and it made the room look lively. The man in the front desk didn’t say much apart from giving Junkrat his room key. He looked at him funny, for some reason. 

Without saying much he hauled his things to his room, pretty much tossing everything on the floor, retrieving his tools to boobie-trap the door- just in case. 

It wasn’t until he was finished that he really observed the room. It had a very, very big bed. Queen size. Junkrat threw his whole body on it, bouncing off the mattress a couple of times while he jiggled, until his fall stopped.

He swam in the bed, it was too big for him. He kept laughing at how funny he probably looked. 

“It’s huge!” he laughed loudly. “I must look like a stone in a big bag of rice, eh Ho-”

His body tensed.

What was that?

That horrible feeling- that guilt crept inside him, crawling through his innards like a parasite but he didn’t know _why_. 

He needed a shower.   
Quickly he jumped off the bed, stripping down even before he entered the bathroom. The shower was small and made a mental note of never returning to this hotel because the shower was too small and they wouldn’t be able to fit in it.

Junkrat rubbed his eyes violently with his palms. Why was he thinking it was too small? Junkrat could fit perfectly in it. Who were “they”? What was he talking about? Why was he so preoccupied by this?

He shoved those thoughts away, dragging the plastic chair that was in the room to the shower. Now that he was alone he couldn’t count on anyone helping him if he was to slip and break his neck.

Was there ever a time _someone_ would have helped him?   
No. There never was. Junkrat has always been alone. A one man army. The most wanted man in Australia, the Junker Queen personally wants him dead. Why would anyone ever help _him_?

His mind was going overdrive. Desperate to shove those emotions away he opened the shower, freezing cold water hitting him directly in the face. He hissed, the cold water making his muscles tense. It took the water a while for it to heat up, and during this time Junkrat’s mind was finally stopping. 

He had been so desperate that he had forgotten to take his prosthetics off. Junkrat sighed, taking his limbs off and carelessly throwing them on the floor. 

_”Careful, don’t damage them”_

Junkrat felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart. He stood up from the wet plastic chair, only to slip and slam into it, breaking it as he crashed against the floor. 

“Ah- fuck!” he yelled. There was no blood, so hopefully not much damage. 

He was never a sane man. Being alone in the irradiated Outback while everyone wants to kill you does that to you. Junkrat’s memory was horrible, but lately it feels like pieces are trying to insert back into his mind but he just cannot remember. He tries and tries but it feels like a puzzle piece that will fix everything is just not _there_. It does not exist. Maybe it didn’t ever exist, and all of these ticks, all of these auto-pilot motions are just him losing his mind. 

He laid pathetically in the shower floor, the warm water eventually turning cold. He still laid there, mind blank as the feeling of something missing grew within him. 

Eventually he turned off the shower and crawled out of the bathroom, wet and naked. He grabbed his backpack in the way, climbing into the bed while still dripping wet. It was already dark outside. 

Sighing, he took out a small book inside his backpack. At one point in his life, he started writing down important things that for sure had happened. Things he was one hundred percent sure were real. Writing down helped discern reality from hallucinations. 

“Arrived to town. Bought supplies. Boobie-trapped bike. Boobie-trapped room. Big room. Queen Bed. Took shower. Slipped and broke plastic table.”

His writing was shitty and lopsided, but it was readable. Junkrat squeezed at his still wet blond hair while taking a deep breath.

He tossed the book inside his backpack, which he then proceeded to throw to the ground. He curled himself in the sheets in a bed that was too big for him, craving something he did not remember or knew. 

Junkrat’s dreams were full of static that night. 

\---

The heat of the Outback is sometimes unbearable. It burnt his skin as he rode through the wasteland and left red marks on its wake. He had to stop to wrap himself in a blanket, it made him sweat but it was better than exposing his skin. 

Junkrat really didn’t have anywhere to go. The days passed by like water, with no one to be with, nowhere to go. He refused to die, however. He wasn’t even sure why- but something about him told him he had to survive as long as he could. So, he listened to that little voice. 

He found shelter inside the ruins of a motel at the side of the road. It looked pretty much abandoned, good for sleeping during the night. 

He spent his time setting up camp, leaving traps to anyone who dared get too close. 

“Ya know, they call these bear traps, why don’t they just call ‘em idiot traps? Eh? Hahahaha!” He laughed, looking behind him as if expecting a response. 

But there was no one there.

Junkrat shrugged, and continued to lay the perimeter. “Is’ a funny joke.”

Sitting beside the fire, Junkrat grabbed a knife and used it to stab open one of the soup cans he had bought the day before. Once open he put the can in the fire, waiting for it to heat up a little. There was a time he wouldn’t care if it was cold, but he became a little more patient a while ago down the road. Turns out, sometimes waiting is good. 

He wondered where he learned that from. 

After eating, he extinguished the fire and crawled inside his sleeping bag. The sky was empty of stars, just as every other night. 

Ah, the delicious sound of a bear trap going off and amputating someone’s leg. Junkrat would never get tired of it. It was like a gentle music waking him up.   
And up he was. He crawled out of his sleeping bag like a rabid animal, snatching his grenade launcher and getting ready.

It was dark- a little too dark. But no matter. He only needed sound. That’s all he needed.

He could hear the screaming and moaning of the guy who stepped in his bear trap. 

“H-help! Guys, help!”

Ah, so he wasn’t alone. 

He waited, licking his teeth as he waited for any sound. Any sound that could help him-  
He heard footsteps. 

Junkrat started shooting, grenades bouncing up and down and exploding, illuminating his surroundings. Between the dirt, blood and explosions he couldn’t count how many people there were, but he heard many screams. 

The man laughed maniacally, shooting until he had no more ammo.   
He reloaded, breathing heavily and looking at the destruction he had just caused. There were mangled, bloodied corpses around him, one of them on fire and giving light. 

“Hehe, gotcha, dipshits.” Junkrat laughed, hand in his hip. 

He wondered if they were raiders just attacking random people, or if they were looking specifically for his treasure. Who cares, they’re dead. But perhaps they had some good things on them?

Junkrat walked across the corpses, kicking them and trying to figure out if he knew them. 

He approached the one corpse that wasn’t all burnt up and mangled. It was facing down, he turned it over with his foot. 

“What do ya got, eh?” he snickered while he crouched, hands already taking off the jacket the corpse was wearing. 

The “dead” man eyes shot open, knife in hand as he stabbed Junkrat in the chest.

Junkrat couldn’t process what was happening as the man dragged his knife down and cut down from the center of his chest to down his belly. He could feel the blood starting to spill and a sharp horrible pain down his gut. 

Before the man could finish gutting him, Junkrat slammed his metalling fingers up the man’s eyes, pulling hard and gouging them out. The man screamed, covering his face with his hands as he wailed in pain. 

Without even thinking, Junkrat leaned over to the man’s neck, right at the yugular and bit _hard_. He could feel the crunching at his teeth, adrenaline pumping through his body as he pulled as hard as he could. 

He tore open the attacker’s neck, destroying his yugular. Blood sprayed all over them as Junkrat spit the flesh he had between his teeth. The man continued squirming and hollering until he didn’t, bleeding out in the middle of the floor. 

Junkrat’s eyes were watering, ears ringing as he proceeded to take out the blade still in his belly and use it to slice open the necks of all the corpses there. They were all dead already, but Junkrat did not care.

It wasn’t until he was done mutilating the corpses he realized all his blood. His chest was burning, pouring blood like a cascade. 

“Fuck- no, fuck fuck-” he muttered as he pressed his wound. He tried to run towards his backpack, but the adrenaline was running out and he fell hard.

“No, no, I have to survive, I have to-” he puked blood, vision blurring. “I have to survive, I have to survive, I have- I-” 

With all the energy he could muster he was somehow able to crawl to his backpack. Shaky, bloodied hands dug through it in a panic, blood leaking out of his lips and nose. 

As he desperately dug through his backpack, he remembered.

This has happened before.  
But not to him, right?

He remembered holding someone as they bled to death. He could remember the warmth of his skin, the way he stared at him with his blue eyes. He felt the phantom touches to his naked skin. 

It had been a mistake. Not enough medicine. Not enough Hogdrogen. Junkrat had fucked up- he had used it on himself before and now, Now he, now he was bleeding out and he was bleeding out and bled out and it was his fault wasn’t it? He always forgets and he can never remember and now he is there alone and _gone_ gone gone and it was his fault it was his _fault_.

Those fingers dragged him close and told him it was not his fault but Junkrat knew very well it was. It has always been. It would always be his fault. No matter how much he tried to forgive himself he felt like hands tore him apart from deep inside of him, opening him, breaking him until there was nothing left. Until every atom of his being was nothing but raw guilt. 

He was bleeding all over the backpack, because that’s the only thing Junkrat was good for. Bleeding out out like a slaughtered animal, only good for the slaughter. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried out to no one. To the no one that has been there, the no one he would never remember.

His shaky fingers found the hogdrogen. He quickly shoved the tip to his mouth, twisting the cap with his teeth and inhaling the medicine. It felt like a huge relief in his poor body as he felt the wounds healing themselves, skin stitching itself back together as it mended him close. 

Junkrat couldn’t stop crying, it felt like a hug of someone he cannot remember. Feels like being touched by big fingers, lovingly caressing you as you slept. Felt like those endless nights where they just whispered sweet words to each other ears, filling each other through the night, until they could go no more. 

It felt like the love of someone he could not remember. 

He cried all night, clutching the empty hogdrogen can close to chest.

\---

Junkrat didn’t bother to do anything with the corpses. He tried to loot the bodies, but most of them were burnt and ruined from the explosions, nothing was really salvageable. 

He still was covered with dried blood but wasn’t going to waste water to clean himself up. Next town shouldn’t be too far away, he could use the shower at the motel. 

Junkrat loaded his things at the bike, taking a deep breath as he dragged it outside. He spotted the poor imbecile that got caught in his bear trap, dead. Junkrat laughed, taking his time to undo the bear trap and placing it back with his belongings. No need to waste a perfectly good bear trap. 

The head was making his skin itch and make him feel uncomfortable. He still wasn’t going to waste drinkable water. He took a deep breath as he stared at the ruins of the motel just before he hopped on the bike. 

His fingers caressed the ring necklace hanging from his neck. They made him feel strange familiarity, but he didn’t know why, exactly. 

Junkrat got on the bike, revving it up and ready to go. As always, there was something at the back of his mind, something that lived in his intestines that made him aware that he was forgetting something. That there was something very important he was forgetting. 

He sped up. 

One day, he would figure it out. He knew that much.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr!](http://whatthefuckistevvs.tumblr.com/)  
> [My Twitter!](https://twitter.com/thefuckistevvs)  
> Y'all like Roadrat? Check out these Roadrat Discords i am Part of!
> 
> https://discord.gg/TExtAwW
> 
> https://discord.gg/HUTZSAF
> 
> Hit me up if you want to talk about the Junkers!!!


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